


Iron Sights

by Laurincia



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Eye Trauma, Tags will be updated when I can think of more because I'm super tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 02:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurincia/pseuds/Laurincia
Summary: In a lot of ways, eyes can be like iron sights, at times a hindrance, an annoyance. But like an iron sight, they’re always there, allowing you to aim, to see.





	Iron Sights

**Author's Note:**

> I was meaning to write something happy but that didn't really work out that well

Everything was quiet, save for some radio chatter coming through the broken police car windows. Timur was still outside, lying prone on the plane wing with a burnt out engine, overlooking the open plane windows, keeping an eye out for his fellow operators, making sure no one would flank them. He had already picked off five inside the bomb room. Mike called in on the radio. “Glaz, see anything worth mentioning?” 

“It’s quiet,” Timur muttered into the mic, quickly glancing around underneath him. 

“Get into the controls, listen in for anything on the radio,” Mike instructed.

Timur hummed and took one more look at his surroundings. Anyone that would be outside would already be dead. Shuhrat was on the lift by the cargo hold entrance on his drone. “Cyka,” Timur called out. Shuhrat heard him and set down his phone. Glaz gestured to the control room at the front of the plane and Shuhrat nodded. While Timur slid down the ladder, he broke the barricade covering the entrance and leaned in, waiting for the sniper. He climbed the other ladder as fast as he could and joined Shuhrat at the entrance. The Uzbek entered cautiously, keeping a close eye on corners. Timur brought up the rear, keeping watch of the cargo hold. Shuhrat lead them up the stairs before quickly but quietly running through the entire length of the plane to the cabin and the cockpit. Radio chatter came through the various headsets. Shuhrat spotted a terrorist in the servers and fired a single bullet at their head, killing them instantly. 

“Fuze, Executive Office, and Meeting Room. Need your gadget here,” Mike called in on the radio again. 

Shuhrat glanced over to Timur. “Go, I’ll be fine,” Timur told him. He took off his headset and put one of the ones hanging on the control panel. 

“I’ll be there soon,” Shuhrat muttered into the mic. He gave Timur one last glance before leaving the cabin and crouched down to get into the servers. Gunshots sounded from the servers before silence fell over everything again. Timur switched headsets and continued scrubbing through radio frequencies. He made it through all five sets and heard nothing. Timur put on his own headset on just in time to hear Monika calling out for backup as she plants the diffuser. He placed everything back to where it was and quickly made his way to the group. Sébastien was behind a deployable shield in front of the stairs. He gave a nod to Timur when he spotted the sniper and gestured to the Executive Office. The faint beeping was heard from inside the room. The others must have hidden in various areas of the plane, waiting for the onslaught. “Don’t go in,” Sébastien whispered. “Cluster charge is primed.” 

Timur hummed and ran over to the corridors and into the kitchen prep and made a mental note to remember that the wooden wall wasn’t reinforced. Timur went over by the tall cabinets, using them as cover. There was a sizable hole that he could peek through. He could see Mike against a reinforced wall. Terrorists soon flooded the plane, doing their best to rush into the office. A terrorist soon started the process of breaking the diffuser. “Activating cluster charge,” Shuhrat whispered into the radio.He heard the cluster charge punching through a wall, faint clicking, then explosions, screaming. Bodies and blood painted the office. Three out of five explosions went off. A terrorist tried to vault through the hole Timur was covering. He fired a shot at their head with his sniper mid-air. The terrorist fell, body draping over the bottom of the hole. Four explosions. A terrorist behind the one Timur shot let out a battle cry. He picked something up off the floor and threw it through the hole. Five explosions. The last cluster charge detonated barely three meters away from Timur. Shrapnel and splintered wood rained down around him. He could hear Mike shouting his codename through the ringing in his ears. He felt his back hit the floor, and his hands grabbing at his face, feeling slick, warm blood. “Glaz!” Shuhrat had shouted when the ringing faded. His vision hadn’t returned, but judging by Shurhat’s tone, he was horrified. Guilty even. Gloved hands helped him up and held his face. “Look at me,” The Uzbek whispered. Timur tried opening his eyes. Everything was dark, blurry, burning. He couldn’t keep them open and closed them again. He was suddenly pulled into a hug. 

 

The sterile smell of a hospital room filled Timur’s senses as he came to. He could feel something wrapped around his head. “Stay still, I'll help you up,” a French-accented voice spoke softly from his right. A gloved hand held Timur stable at the base of his neck and he was helped up to a sitting position. The top half of the bed was moved to a smaller angle and a pillow was placed between Timur and the bed.

“What happened, Doc?” Timur asked. He could hear the hesitation. 

“I don't think you want to know yet.”

“Tell me.” The words came out harsher than intended. 

A soft sigh. “Grenade exploded near you. There is heavy trauma to your eyes.” Gustave might have said grenade, but Timur knew it was one of Shuhrat’s cluster charges. He knew that a terrorist threw it towards him. 

“Has he visited?” Timur asked. 

“No. But you should know, he feels guilty.”

Timur scoffed. “Why's that?” He already knew the answer to his own question but he still asked. 

“It was his gadget.”

“I know. It's not his fault.” 

 

Days passed. Maxim and Alexandr spent the majority of their time in his hospital room, keeping him company. Maxim took his time to read old Russian stories to him. According to the trapper, Shuhrat went out of his way to avoid seeing him. He even refused to go on a mission that required his gadget. On day three, Shuhrat had finally visited, but only because Alexandr went out of his way to physically drag Shuhrat to Timur’s room before pulling Maxim out and locking the door, leaving the two in the room together. Timur counted the seconds as they passed in his head. 

Five. 

Ten.

Fifteen.

Twenty. Twenty seconds had passed when Shuhrat finally did something. Timur heard the telltale signs of crying, heavy breathing, sniffling, sobbing. “I’m sorry,” he repeated until all Timur could hear was incoherent babbling. 

In some ways, iron sights are like eyes. They help you aim, to see. But like iron rusting, eyes can be hindered useless. And what’s a sniper without their eyes? Useless. A hindrance. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As you can tell, I love iron sights :))


End file.
